


Speaking Up

by onecent



Series: No Evil [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Deaf Clint Barton, Depression, Disabled Character, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Learning to trust, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5430029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onecent/pseuds/onecent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being injured in the war and running away from his sister's house, Bucky Barnes turns up on Clint Barton's doorstep looking for a place to recover. Clint is happy to see his friend, but he's not sure that his home is the sort of safe haven Bucky is looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hanged Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Weep little lion man, you’re not as brave as you were at the start._  
>  “[Little Lion Man](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLJf9qJHR3E),” Mumford & Sons

Clinton Francis Barton (Clint to his friends, Asshole to his best friends) cracked another egg into the bowl and began whisking. “Do you want any eggs?” he asked.

The figure in the living room did not respond.

“I’m making scrambled. No pancakes today, just toast. I’ve gotta be out the door in ten minutes. You’ll be fine by yourself today, right?”

No response again.

“All right, well, text me if you need anything.” Clint dumped the eggs into the frying pan, which still sizzled with bacon grease, and threw in a pinch of salt and some cheese. He separated the finished product onto two plates, one with two pieces of toast untouched and one with half a piece of toast, already gnawed on. “I’m leaving your plate on the table. Milk and juice are in the fridge.”

He finished shoveling his own food into his mouth and ran into the bedroom to put on his shoes, grab his blazer, and throw a black tie over his shoulder. He tied his shoes as he hopped out the bedroom door into the living room.

“Hey,” he said, stopping to take a look at the man slumped into the corner of his couch. “Make sure you eat, okay?” He leaned down to try to look at the man’s haggard face.

He received a middle finger for his trouble.

Clint chuckled. “All right. Take care, Bucky. I’ll see you after work.” He grabbed his keys off the coat hook by the door and headed out, taking some time to lock the door behind him. He took the stairs down to the lobby two at a time. Once he stepped outside, he pulled out his cell phone and started texting as he headed for the bus stop.

_Amazing Archer (8:55): Eggs and bacon and toast for breakfast_

_Sister Dearest (8:57): Did he eat?_

_Amazing Archer (8:58): I don’t now I had to go to work_

_Sister Dearest (8:588): He say anything yet?_

_Amazing Archer (8:59): No but he flipped me the bird so I think that’s a good sign_

There was no immediate response to that, so Clint shoved his phone back in his pocket and jogged the last few meters to the bus stop. He was the last one to get on the bus and swiped his pass with an apologetic smile. A few minutes later, his phone buzzed again.

_Sister Dearest (9:05): Let me know if he says anything._

_Amazing Archer (9:06): Yup :)_

A month ago, former Staff Sergeant Bucky Barnes had turned up on Clint’s doorstep, hair unkempt and hanging to his shoulders, and with his left sleeve tied up into a knot. Since then, he’d been living with Clint in his apartment in Bed-Stuy.

It had been about three weeks ago that Clint had done some (not so legal) digging and managed to contact Bucky’s sister, Rebecca. She’d been extremely grateful to hear from him—apparently Bucky had gone missing almost seven months earlier with no contact. Now Clint kept her updated on a daily basis, though most updates were pretty boring. So far the most exciting change had been when Bucky started showering again (two and a half weeks ago) and wearing clean clothes (two weeks ago).

Clint saw the response this morning as pretty impressive, too, even if Rebecca didn’t seem to think so. At least Bucky was listening, not caught up in whatever nightmares were usually eating at him.

It was a long ride from his apartment in Bed-Stuy to his job as a security guard at Stark Tower in Manhattan, but he had no intention of moving closer to work. A long commute wasn’t so bad, even if it meant waking up at ass o’clock (8:00) in the morning every day. He liked Brooklyn, and so did Bucky. And if he napped on the bus ride over, who was going to blame him?

——————————

Clint’s phone buzzed as soon as he clocked out of work.

_Bat Murdork (6:01): Drinks tonight? I’ll buy._

He checked his watch out of reflex. He’d love to go grab a drink with Matt and grouse about the day, but he’d already been out for almost nine hours, and it would be almost another hour before he was home.

_Amazing Archer (6:02): Sorry got plans rain check?_

He slid his phone in his pocket and boarded the bus for home. His phone buzzed again while he swiped his card and found his seat, then again before he could pull it out.

_Red Russian Hood (6:03): Josie’s?_

_Red Russian Hood (6:07): What the hell, you’re bailing again?_

Clint frowned and typed back one-handed.

_Amazing Archer (6:13): Its Kate an I have to make diner_

_Red Russian Hood (6:13): It’s not that late. You could come out after._

Clint thought about the possibility for a minute. He could always go home, cook, eat, talk to Bucky for a bit, and head out, if he had time.

_Amazing Archer (6:15): Maybe ill let u kno_

He sat and stared out the window for the rest of the trip back to Bed-Stuy. He was almost asleep by the time he reached his stop, though, and pulled the cord at the last minute before hopping over the old lady sitting next to him and darting out the back door. He jogged back to his apartment, checking his mail on the way inside, and ran up the stairs.

“Bucky?” he called out, rapping on the door. “I’m home. Coming inside now.” He unlocked the door and eased it open, poking his head around to look around the room. Bucky was nowhere in sight. He stepped the rest of the way into the apartment and closed the door, locking it behind him. “Bucky? You around here?”

The plate from breakfast was empty and no longer on the table. In fact, it wasn’t even in the sink, but in the dish drainer next to the sink, along with the other breakfast dishes. Clint smiled at the sight. “Hey, thanks for doing the dishes,” he said, letting himself relax a little. He looked around the living room and kitchen area again, but Bucky wasn’t in any of the common space.

Clint went over to Bucky’s bedroom door and knocked gently. “Thanks for doing the dishes,” he said again. “I’m going to make dinner. I’m thinking spaghetti? I know I do it all the time, I just don’t really know how to make much else, so sorry. It should be done in, like, an hour?” He shuffled his feet, looking down at the patterns his toes were cutting into the carpet. “Anyway. You’re welcome to it. And to come hang out if you want.”

Not sure what else to say, Clint went over to the kitchen and started getting dinner ready. He put some water on the stove, pulled up some music on his phone, and started humming along tunelessly. While he waited for the water to boil, he drifted back over to the bedroom door. He told himself he wasn’t trying to eavesdrop (it’s not like there was anything much to drop eaves on), but it was a lie that didn’t even make it past his first mental barrier. It didn’t matter one way or another. Not a sound came from Bucky’s room.

Clint went back to the pasta. He finished cooking, straining, and adding sauce and cheese before scooping himself a large plate and heading back to the bedrooms. “Food’s on the stove,” he called out. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Might as well give the guy some privacy while he did whatever he did. Clint headed into his own room only to startle at the sight of Bucky curled up in a ball in the middle of the floor.

Clint set his food down on his dresser and headed over to Bucky’s side. Bucky was sitting, rocking, rubbing his left arm. His eyes were watery with unshed tears. “Hey,” Clint said, keeping his voice low and calm. “It’s okay, Bucky. It’s me, Clint. You’re in Brooklyn. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you, okay? Just go ahead and breathe. Breathe.”

Bucky took a deep, shuddering breath that broke into a silent sob as he exhaled. He kept rubbing the stump of his arm and holding it tight against his body. Clint had just enough presence of mind to pull out his phone and send a text to Natasha and Matt before turning back to Bucky.

_Amazing Archer (7:48): Not gonna make it tonight. Dog Cops marathon ftw!_

——————————

The car in front of his face exploded, and Clint heard a shout rip from his body. He was outside of the car, he was on the ground, he was running toward the man in front of him. He heard the sound of a whistle and tackled the man to the ground. He was shouting and crying and so was the man, except it was a girl, and she wasn’t crying or doing anything. She was lying there, completely still, and there was blood. It was on his hands, it was on his face, and he was screaming but there was no sound--

Clint flung his eyes open, hoping that would stop the scene from replaying in his head over and over. He lay perfectly still as he waited for the dark shape in front of him to settle into the familiar form of his dresser.

“I’m not there,” he whispered to himself. “I’m in my apartment. I’m in Bed-Stuy. It’s May...May something. Shit. What day is it? It’s Thursday. I’ve got work in…” He checked his alarm clock, over next to the door. The bright red numbers flashed 3:54.  “Damn. Six hours.” He rubbed at his face. “I should eat something.”

At this last sentence, he realized that he’d actually been hearing everything he’d been saying. With a wince, he reached up to feel at his ears. “Aww, hearing aids…” he said, yanking off the behind-the-ear aids that he’d fallen asleep in. Fallen asleep...in his bed? Hadn’t he been watching a movie?

No, he remembered now. He had been sitting with Bucky for a while, and then suggested they both go watch Dog Cops so at least he wouldn’t be completely lying to his friends. And also to maybe calm Bucky down. They’d both sat down in front of the TV, and at some point Clint had drifted off. He vaguely remembered a tap on his shoulder and Bucky helping him to get to bed. They’d both just forgotten the hearing aids.

“Well that was nice of him,” Clint said, staring down at the aids in his hands. He looked up at the door. There was light on the other side of it. Clint looked back at his hearing aids and, with a sigh, put them back in his aching ears. He got up and opened the door, making sure to trip over something in his room and curse loudly on the way out.

“Hey Bucky,” he said, seeing the man standing frozen in the kitchen. “I guess you couldn’t sleep either?”

Bucky had his one hand holding a cup under the water faucet. The stub of his left arm was poised over the handle to turn off the water when the cup was full. Unfortunately, Clint seemed to have surprised him, and the cup was overflowing with water.

“Want me to get you a bigger cup?” Clint joked.

Bucky frowned and shut off the water, pouring out a little of the excess from his cup before taking a long drink.

“Since we’re both awake, you want to do something? I’m starving. I could make us some eggs, maybe even pancakes.”

Bucky frowned again. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then his mouth did this strange contortion where it seemed to scrunch up and flatten simultaneously. Clint waited, not moving from the bedroom doorway.

“Your pancakes suck,” Bucky said. Not a great first line after a month of not speaking, but Clint had to suppress a sigh of relief all the same.

“Uh, what the hell?” Clint said. He saw Bucky flinch and kept right on rattling on to say, “I make the best pancakes.”

Bucky’s shoulders dropped slightly from their defensive position. “You add too much baking powder,” he said. Slowly, like he was testing each word.

“All right, Iron Chef, it’s on.” Clint stepped forward. “You and me, cook-off. Non-partial judge. Winner picks the next movie for movie night. I’ll get Natasha--”

Bucky blew a raspberry. “Natasha isn’t going to be impartial.”

“Fine, Matt. Matt thinks I’m an ass so he won’t go out of his way for me. Also we don’t tell him whose is whose.”

“All right,” Bucky said. “You’re on.”

“I’ll text him in the morning. You want anything else tonight?”

Bucky shook his head and held up his glass of water.

“Okay.” Clint stumbled past Bucky and grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge. He ripped the cap off and poured the yogurt into his mouth, using his finger to scoop up the last of it.

Bucky winced and walked away.

“Uh, sorry?” Clint called after him, still licking yogurt off a finger. Bucky didn’t even turn as he flashed his middle finger and walked into his bedroom.

——————————

Clint texted Matt and made plans for a Saturday morning pancake cook-off before heading to work in the morning. He headed out to find Natasha waiting downstairs outside Clint’s apartment. She peeled away from the wall and followed him as he rushed to the bus stop.

“You could get a car,” she said, throwing away the remains of the apple she’d been eating with a quick flick into the trash can.

“I hate New York traffic,” Clint said. “And it’s much more fun to people watch on the bus.”

“You’re not afraid someone’s going to steal the wallet of a fine businessman such as yourself?” She held up his wallet between two fingers.

He held out a hand for her to return his belongings. “Generally, I can manage to take care of myself. But thanks for your concern.”

She stepped in front of him as she returned his wallet. “I’m concerned about more than you losing your wallet, you know,” she said in a low voice.

“Well, I’ve already lost my dignity and probably my sanity, so I’m not sure what’s really left,” he joked.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Clint…”

“Tasha. I’m fine, all right? I don’t need you hovering over me like an overprotective sibling.” He looked over her head (not a difficult task) and down the street. “The bus is coming. Are you riding it with me? Or am I on my own today?”

“You’re not on your own. You don’t have to do any of this on your own.”

“You don’t have to turn everything I say into a great wise-ism.” He pulled out his bus pass. “Look, I gotta go. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Your turn to come to me next time,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah.” Clint got onto the bus and found a seat. He immediately pulled out his phone to text Rebecca and tell her the good news about Bucky.

——————————

Clint woke up at eight o’clock on Saturday morning to Bucky shaking his shoulder insistently. He groaned and turned over, grabbing his pillow and pulling it over his head. Bucky grabbed the pillow and hit him over the head with it.

“It is a weekend!” Clint complained. “Let me sleep!”

Bucky dropped the pillow and grabbed Clint’s hearing aids, holding them out to him. Clint looked balefully at the aids, then up at Bucky.

“I hope you have a good reason for this,” Clint grumbled, grabbing the hearing aids and putting them in.

“We need to make pancakes for Matt,” Bucky replied.

Clint groaned again. “Are you kidding me? You woke me up at fuckin’ eight o’clock in the morning to make pancakes?”

“No, I woke you up at eight to head over to Hell’s Kitchen. We won’t get to the pancakes until at least 9:30.”

Clint glared at Bucky. “They were going to be _afternoon_ pancakes,” he grumbled.

“But now they’re breakfast pancakes. Come on. Get dressed and let’s go.”

Grumbling all the way, Clint got dressed, accepted a travel mug of coffee from Bucky, and walked to the subway station. “You’re in charge of making sure we get off at the right stop,” he growled as they sat down. Then he laid his head against the window and let his eyes close.

A few minutes later he heard Bucky take in a sharp breath next to him. Clint’s eyes popped open. “You okay?” he asked, turning to look at his friend.

Bucky nodded once, sharp. He was staring straight ahead, and his right arm curled around his body to clutch at his ribs.

“Hey. Can you look at me?” Clint said. “Just look at me, okay?”

Bucky turned his head to stare at Clint. He was still breathing shallowly and his eyes were wide.

“Breathe with me, okay? In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. In…” Clint counted out breaths and placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, keeping eye contact and forcing the breaths to slow. “You’re right here, okay? We’re in New York. We’re going to Matt’s house for pancakes. It’s gonna be okay.”

Bucky nodded again. His lips were pressed tight together. He stayed stiff under Clint’s hand for another ten minutes as they crossed the water from Brooklyn into Manhattan. Finally he started to relax. His arm uncurled from his chest and he shook out his stump.

“How are you feeling? Just flash me a thumbs up or something if you’re okay.”

A shuddering breath later, Bucky raised his thumb. “I’m okay,” he said.

“Awesome. It’s ten more minutes, I think. You gonna make it?”

“I’ll be fine.” Bucky took another deep breath. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Clint took a drink of his coffee, grateful for the thermos that had kept it warm all this time. “And thanks for this. I think I might be halfway awake by now.”

“How did you survive the army?”

“Horribly. And by acting like an ass most of the time.”

“And that is different from now...how?”

“Shut up.” Clint grinned and shoved at Bucky with his shoulder. “Okay, so I’m still only half awake, so I’m gonna doze the rest of the way. Wake me up if you need anything.” He put his head back against the window and closed his eyes.

What felt like two seconds later, Bucky was tapping his shoulder again. “Our stop,” he said, standing. Clint lurched to his feet and followed Bucky off the train and down the block toward Matt’s fancy apartment.

“At least we’re not going to his old place,” Clint said as they walked. “It was a real shithole.”

“You’ve mentioned. Multiple times.”

“Did I? Oh. Sorry. I’ll shut up.”

When they reached Matt’s apartment, Bucky knocked on the door while Clint leaned against the wall and finished off his drink. As Matt opened the door, Clint held up the empty travel mug and said “I hope you have coffee.”

“It’s already on,” Matt said. “How was the trip over?”

“Long,” Clint grumped.

“You guys could move out of Bed-Stuy. Find a place closer in.”

Clint scoffed. “I’m disgusted you would even suggest such a thing. All right, Matt, show me around your kitchen. It’s time for me to make a fool of my friend here and prove that I am not only a better shot--”

“Not with a gun,” Bucky interjected.

“But also a better chef. Move aside Julia Child. When I’m done with these pancakes, we are watching _The Fifth Element_.”

Matt frowned. “You should not have told me that was your movie choice.”

“Bucky wants to watch _Sergeant York_. Because he is an old man.”

“It’s a classic,” Bucky protested.

“You’re a classic. Now get into this kitchen. I’m here, I’m caffeinated, and I’m hungry.”

——————————

Matt proclaimed both of their pancakes disgusting, Clint’s because it definitely did have too much baking soda and Bucky’s because he’d used bananas in the mix, and Matt found the texture and unexpected taste off-putting. Clint liked Bucky’s pancakes, but Bucky argued that didn’t count because Clint clearly didn’t have actual working taste buds.

Matt ended up making his own pancakes, leaving the kitchen a mess of flour and batter droplets. The pancakes themselves were deformed and looked pretty unappetizing, despite their wonderful scent.

“Why is mine in the shape of a dick?” Clint asked, holding up his pancake.

“I don’t know,” Matt said with a shrug. “Must just be a coincidence.”

Clint glared at Matt’s back and held up the dick pancake. With a hard glare, he opened his mouth and took in as much of the pancake as he could before savagely biting it off. From across the table, Bucky snorted, small pieces of pancake flying out of his mouth.

“Everything okay?” Matt asked.

Clint waited for Bucky to give the thumbs up. “Yeah, we’re fine,” he said. “Just enjoying these delicious pancakes.”

“So my pancakes win?”

Bucky rolled his eyes while Clint grinned and replied, “Sure, why not?”

“Excellent, because I want to put on _My Cousin Vinny_.”


	2. The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If the sky comes falling down for you, there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do._  
>  “[Hey, Brother](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Cp6mKbRTQY),” Avicii

“Natasha said it’s your birthday tomorrow.” Matt’s voice was tinny over the phone. Probably on speaker.

“Natasha says a lot of things,” Clint replied. He analyzed the shopping list that Bucky had written for him. “Where am I supposed to find cumin?”

“It’s a spice,” Matt informed him. “Is Natasha telling the truth?”

Clint spun his shopping cart around to go looking for the spices. “Maybe?” he said. “Why, does it matter?”

“I thought you might want to celebrate.”

“Nah. I’m not that big on birthdays. It wasn’t ever a big part of my life, you know? Do you think garlic salt is the same as garlic?”

“What? No! How have you kept yourself fed this long?”

“Garlic salt is edible!”

“I just...I…” Matt sighed, short and harsh. He was probably rubbing his nose again. Clint grinned at the mental image. “I thought you might want to go out or something. To celebrate.”

“Celebrate? The garlic salt?”

“Your birthday!”

Another voice echoed through the line. “Is that Clint?”

“Hey Foggy!” Clint called.

“Yes, it’s Clint,” Matt said. “I’m trying to get him to come out to dinner with us tomorrow.”

“Oh, you guys want to feed me? Why didn’t you lead with that?” Clint threw the garlic salt in the cart and looked at the next item on the list. “What do you think it means when it says ‘steak but not the shit you always buy’?”

“I am going to leave you to figure that out. And if you’re willing to come, yes, I thought we could go out to dinner tomorrow. We’ll even come out to Brooklyn for you. There’s that one pizza joint you like, right?”

“Well you know I love pizza. By ‘we,’ you mean…?”

“Me, Foggy, Natasha.”

Clint chewed on his lower lip as he stared at the rows of steak. “Do you think I could bring Bucky?”

“It’s your birthday, Clint. You can bring whoever you goddamn please.”

It was a small group, going to a small place not very far from home. Bucky had been going outside on walks around the block, he knew where The Pizza Joint was, he knew Matt and Natasha. They wouldn’t be out in huge crowds again. And who could say no to pizza?

“All right, sounds good,” Clint said. “Say seven-thirty? That’ll give me time to get home and get changed.”

“Seven-thirty sounds good.” Matt sounded happier already. It would be good, getting to hang out with all his friends again. Matt was probably getting upset without all of Clint’s jokes.

“Now, ribeye is a bad cut, right? That’s why it costs so much?”

“I’m hanging up now, Clint. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Clint finished the shopping quickly, packing the heavier items into a large backpack so he could walk it the couple blocks home. He hauled everything up the stairs and dropped his head on the door.

“Hey, it’s Clint. Could you open the door? My hands are full.”

There was a minute of waiting before the deadbolt slid back and the door opened, Bucky standing behind it and out of sight. Clint turned sideways to fit through the doorway with all the groceries. He went straight for the kitchen and dropped everything on the counter.

“So I was talking to Matt,” Clint said, unpacking the bags. “And he wants to meet up for dinner tomorrow night down at The Pizza Joint. You want to come?”

Bucky came up and started helping to unpack groceries. “Just Matt?”

“Matt and Natasha and Foggy. You haven’t met him, but he’s great.”

Bucky nodded. “I think...yeah, that sounds good.”

“Awesome.” Clint grinned, nice and wide. “Here, look. I got you steak.” He pulled out the ribeye and waggled his eyebrows. “Look out, it’s watching you.”

“That was awful,” Bucky said, grabbing the package. “But you at least bought a real cut, so I’m going to give you a pass this time.”

They finished putting away the groceries and Bucky started pulling out some pans to begin cooking. Midway through pouring oil into a skillet, he stopped and looked up at Clint.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow,” he said.

“Um. Yes?”

“Shit, I totally forgot!”

“That’s okay, man. You already got me a present, if that’s what makes you feel bad.”

“What? When did I get you a present?”

“There were those nice boots and a fancy bottle of scotch.”

“That was three years ago!”

“Hey, it’s better than my family usually did for me.” Clint regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He ignored the sad look in Bucky’s eyes and grinned again. “Which means you can be my new big brother! Well, little brother...I can’t believe you’re only five nine.” He reached over and ruffled Bucky’s hair.

“Fuck off, Barton,” Bucky said, flipping him off again and shaking the loose hair out of his eyes. “I thought you were done telling me sob stories about your childhood.” He went back to the skillet. “And I’m going to make you a cake tomorrow, so when we’re done with pizza we can all have dessert.”

“Yeah?” Clint said, impressed.

“Yeah.” Bucky took a deep breath and smiled. “It’ll be fun.”

——————————

“So I’m at the range,” Clint said, watching the table to gage everyone’s responses (Natasha-annoyed, Matt-exasperated but smiling, Foggy-curious, Bucky-blank (what the hell?)) before charging ahead with his story. “And I’m checking over the bows, right? Trying just to get an idea of what they have available. And this girl comes up, looking me over, you know, and she says, ‘You’ve got a good draw there. Do you have to get special arrows for that length?’” He smirked to make sure everyone was getting the joke (though Matt wasn’t getting the benefit of the smirk, so he would just have to figure this out on his own). “So I look at her and I say--”

“No,” Natasha said, covering her head. “No, no, no.”

“’Isn’t that sort of a pointed question?’” Clint continued as though she hadn’t said anything.

Matt and Natasha both groan. Foggy just looks confused. Bucky turns to Clint and says, “That doesn’t even work as a joke.”

“Sure it does,” Clint said. “Arrows. Innuendo. Everything was there. Why doesn’t it work?”

“Please at least tell me the girl walked away,” Natasha said.

“Well yes,” Clint admitted. “But she was smiling. She does archery. She got the joke.” (She was not smiling. The girl had been all of 15, and she’d looked confused and then upset before walking away.)

“At least all you elf-types have the same sense of humor,” Bucky deadpanned.

“All right, next time you tell the jokes.” Clint picked up an unused straw and peeled the end off the wrapper. He aimed around the table and settled for shooting the straw wrapper at Matt’s nose.

Bucky caught the wrapper as it left the straw and crumpled it. “If we’re all done here,” he said, “There’s cake back at the apartment.”

Clint brightened. “That’s right! Bucky made cake. It’s frosted and everything.”

Matt turned to Foggy, who looked down at his watch and said, “Yeah, I think we’ve got time for that.”

Natasha stood and stretched up. “Of course we have time. That sounds delicious.”

Clint stood up and made sure to stand right next to her. “Awesome plan, Natasha. High five.” He held his hand up high over his head. In response, she narrowed her eyes and hooked a foot behind his knee, dropping him down into a kneeling position. Then she slapped his hand and flicked his nose. “I don’t know why you bother.”

Clint rubbed his nose. “Right, sorry. Don’t pick on the short ones. They turn you into stepstools.” He turned to Bucky. “You’re not going to start climbing on me next, are you?”

Bucky froze for a second, then snorted and glared. “I’m not that short,” he said.

“You’re only like, two inches taller than Tasha,” Clint argued. “And six inches shorter than me! That’s an entire half of a sub sandwich shorter.”

“Also known as half a foot,” Matt supplied. “Not everything has to be measured in food.”

“Au contraire, my friend. Everything should be measured in food.”

“Yeah?” Natasha said. “How many food items until I have to drag you out of the restaurant by your ear?”

“You couldn’t reach--ow! Okay, I take it back! Zero cookies, zero noodles, zero, zero, I’m coming!” Clint rubbed his ear, carefully nudging the hearing aid back into place. He went over to the door and held it open for his friends to exit before him. Bucky was last out, so Clint fell into step next to him as they headed back to the apartment.

“I like Natasha,” Bucky supplied.

“I am very much not surprised,” Clint said. “You two are surprisingly similar in some ways. I mean, aside from being short.”

“Do you _want_ to get punched?”

“You can’t punch me. It’s my birthday.”

Bucky reached across to punch his arm.

“Hey!”

Matt, walking just in front of them (and apparently listening in on their whole conversation, how rude), snickered and said, “Birthday privileges don’t work on assholes.”

“Such language,” Clint said, hand over his heart. “What if young ears had heard you?”

“What, like yours?” Bucky asked with a grin.

“I’ll have you know that Natasha is a full two years younger than me,” Clint retorted. “Practically an infant. And besides, I was talking about all the young children that live in this neighborhood.”

“It’s ten o’clock at night,” Foggy said. “Why would any kids be out?”

“Well, you know kids these days,” Clint started.

“Give it a rest, Clint,” Natasha said. “You never know when you’re beat in an argument.”

“Because I never am.”

“Do you have your keys?” Foggy asked. He was tugging on the door to Clint’s apartment complex. “They’ve locked up for the night.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, hold on.” Clint started rooting around in his pocket.

“You better not have forgotten your keys, Barton,” Bucky said.

“I’m not that much of a train wreck. Just hold on a--here!” He pulled out his key ring triumphantly and turned to see Bucky flinching slightly at something. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

A figure peeled itself away from the side of the building. Clint and Bucky both jumped, and Bucky dropped into a weird almost-crouch, his eyes darting back and forth. His breathing was starting to come ragged, rapid.

“Woah, hey, hey, breathe buddy,” Clint said, turning to put a hand on Bucky’s good shoulder. “Deep breaths, come on, we’re fine. It’s just some homeless guy. You’re safe.”

Bucky forced himself to close his mouth and take a long, deep breath through his nose.

“Well that’s rude,” the shadowy figure said. “I thought you’d have something a little nicer to say about me, Clint.”

And Clint was whirling, trying to see who this unknown man was. He automatically stepped in front of Bucky, who was still trying to get a handle on his breathing. Foggy and Matt stood in the doorway to the apartment complex while Natasha stepped silently behind the figure, tensed in a position to fight.

“I’m sorry,” Matt said, “are you a friend of Clint’s?”

Clint flashed through all the people who might know him, who might be here. And of those, who might be lurking outside his apartment in Brooklyn?

“Sort of,” the man said with a wry grin that was suddenly very horrifyingly familiar. That with the shaggy mane of red-brown hair... “Hey Clint, guess what.”

“Holy shit,” Clint whispered. His mouth gaped in surprise. “Barney?”

“Chickenbutt.”

——————————

After a very awkward discussion on the street, Natasha, Matt and Foggy had decided to head home and meet up for cake another day. Barney was crashing on Clint’s couch for the night.

When they got up to the apartment, Bucky headed straight for his bedroom, closing the door loudly (but not quite slamming it) behind him. Clint watched him go, shoulders falling. He went to the kitchen to put away the cake. He said nothing as he pulled out the plastic wrap, covered the cake, and placed it in the fridge.

“So you just going to give me the silent treatment, like your friend there?” Barney finally asked.

Clint, still turned away, snapped, “Oh, I’m sorry, what did you want me to say?” He spun on his heel. “Hey Barn, nice to see you, thanks for letting me know you’re not dead after all this time.”

“Dead? Why would I be--”

“I shot you!”

“So?”

“I shot you. In the chest. With an arrow.” Clint gestured at his own chest with both hands. “I watched you bleed out on the street. Chisholm said you were dead!”

“Well Chisholm’s a lying son of a bitch.” Barney sat down on a stool on the other side of the kitchen counter. “Is that why you didn’t call for seven years?”

“Didn’t…” Clint wiped a hand down his face. He sagged against the counter behind him. “Oh my god, Barney, this isn’t a joke. You were dead! I thought I...thought…”

“Hey.” Barney leaned forward to rest on his elbows. “It’s fine, right? I’m here now. You didn’t kill no one.”

“You don’t even know.” Clint turned his head to look off into the living room.

“No. I guess I don’t. Think you’d be open to telling me?”

Clint took a deep breath that was most definitely not the beginning of a sob. “Shit happened,” he said, slowly. “I moved on. Made some new friends. What about you?”

Barney shrugged. “About the same. Got out of the hospital, went looking for the circus, but they’d up and left. I wandered. Didn’t know what’d happened to you for a while.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Just kept looking.” Barney shrugged. “Figured I’d run into you eventually.” He squinted as he looked at Clint. “What’s with the new aids?”

“Got my ears blown up,” Clint said. “Life’s a bitch.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Barney yawned, long and loud.

“I’ll get some blankets for you. Couch okay for the night?”

“Sure.”

Clint grabbed some blankets out of the closet. He dumped them on the couch with an extra pillow. “All right, I’ll let you tuck yourself in. Night, Barney.” He walked over to Bucky’s door and knocked lightly. “Night, buddy,” he said before turning in for the night.

——————————

Clint woke with a scream. He lay in the dark for a moment, panting, waiting for his eyes to focus on the dresser in front of his face. “I’m not there,” he gasped out. “I’m in my apartment in Bed-Stuy. My name is Clint Barton. Bucky is in the other room, and so is, fuck. Barney. Fuck, fuck.” He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes with the heels of both hands.

He vaguely heard the sound of someone muttering over by the door and raised his hands to look up and see who was there. “What?” he said, raising his head.

“You’ll hurt your eyes doing that.” Barney was standing in the frame of the open door. He signed as he spoke. Clint grabbed a pillow off his bed and threw it at his brother’s face. Barney caught it one-handed and stepped into the room. “Is everything okay?” He dropped the pillow to keep signing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just dreams.”

“Sounds more like nightmares to me. Wanna talk about it?”

“No, Barney, I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” Clint rolled over to flip on the desk lamp by his bed. When he looked back up, he saw that Barney was standing in the middle of the room and Bucky was hovering in the doorway.

“How long has this been going on?” Barney asked.

“Your interrogation? About three minutes too long now.” Clint sat up to read the clock around Barney’s large frame. “Look, you going to keep me up or can I try to get in the last few hours of sleep before work?”

Bucky’s face fell. Clint frowned. Why was Bucky upset? Had he said something--?

“All right, I’ll leave you alone. Just, you know, if you want to talk, I’m here.” Barney reached out slowly to pat Clint on the shoulder. “Take care.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Clint rolled over onto his side, facing the wall.

He waited for the sound of the door closing behind him before he let out a shuddering breath and clasped his hands together in front of his face, keeping them from shaking. He stared at the wall, barely blinking to keep the nightmares from reappearing. It was another four hours before he needed to be up. He knew he wouldn’t sleep.

——————————

When Clint finally got out of bed that morning for work, he stuffed in his hearing aids and shuffled groggily into the kitchen to find Bucky already standing next to a hot pot of coffee. Bucky held out a mug, which Clint gratefully accepted.

“Is he staying?” Bucky asked, almost under his breath.

“What?” Clint said.

“Your brother,” Bucky went on. “How long is he here for?”

Clint stared at him for a moment before just taking a long gulp of the coffee, draining half the mug in one go. Then he blinked slowly a few times and looked back at Bucky, who was staring down at the ground and rubbing at his left shoulder and bicep.

“I don’t know. I figured he’d probably leave today.”

“You’re kicking him out.” Bucky said.

Clint shrugged.“He’s good at leaving. I figured he wouldn’t want to stick around.”

“He doesn’t have to leave. I think maybe he wants to stay.”

“It’ll get crowded in here. You don’t have to put up with that.”

“I’ll manage.”

“He’s pretty annoying, too.”

“So are you.”

Clint smiled to see the bit of teasing come back to Bucky. He finished off his coffee and set the cup on the counter to pour a refill. “If you’re okay with it…” he said slowly.

Bucky looked up and toward the bathroom. Clint followed his gaze and saw Barney come out, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Hey, Clint,” Barney said, signing again.

“I’ve got my aids in now,” Clint said.

“You still could use the practice. Come on, your turn.”

Clint sighed and put his coffee down to sign back. “You’re an asshole.”

“Any chance I could snag some leftover coffee before I hit the road?”

“Actually…” Clint looked out of the corner of his eye over at Bucky, who nodded minutely. “If you need a few days to get settled, you can crash here for a little longer. Until you find a job and your own place.” He only managed to sign a few words here and there. Damn, Barney was right. He was rusty.

“Yeah?” Barney grinned. “That’s great.” He turned to look at Bucky. “I guess I should introduce myself, then. I’m Barney.”

“James,” Bucky grunted.

Barney held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, James.”

Bucky looked down at the extended hand, up at Barney’s face, and back down. He extended his right hand and gave Barney’s a single pump. Then he reached back behind him, grabbed a cup of coffee off the counter, and retreated to his bedroom.

“Talkative guy, isn’t he?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Shut the hell up, Barney.”


	3. The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You must have the words in that head of yours, and oh, oh, can you feel the silence?_  
>  “[The Silence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00p2FW7ZLVo),” Bastille

Two weeks later, Bucky and Clint sat together in the living room, finishing off an episode of Dog Cops while taking turns throwing pennies into an empty cup in front of the TV.

“Tomorrow’s the fourth,” Clint said, looking over at Bucky. “There’ll be fireworks. Maybe some idiots with firecrackers.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around a beer. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well. Maybe you could help me?”

“What?” Bucky looked over at Clint, who tapped at his hearing aids.

“I can hear the loud booms,” he said, “but you know the whistle part? When it first goes up? I can’t hear that. It helps me to know when the loud ones are coming, hearing the whistle, or sometimes seeing the lights. If I know what the sound is, it’s not as bad. But my hearing’s shit now.”

“You want me to be your ears?” Bucky said with a small smile.

“If you’re willing.”

Bucky looked down at the beer in his hand, took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “What the hell. Sounds like fun.”

The front door swung open without a knock. Both Clint and Bucky jumped in their chairs and turned to watch Barney walk in. Clint relaxed minutely, but Bucky remained tense.

“Miss Johnson from down the hall wanted me to give you guys these,” Barney said, holding out a plate of cookies. “Said she really respected what you guys did for our country.”

“Nice, free cookies!” Clint said. “Thanks, Barney.”

“Yeah, no problem. You guys doing anything special for tomorrow?”

Bucky stood and went to his bedroom, leaving his beer on the end table.

“No, nothing special,” Clint said, watching him go. “Just watching the fireworks.”

“Yeah? Mind if I come?”

Clint looked over at his brother, standing awkwardly in the hallway, his jacket still on as he looked from Clint to Bucky’s closed door. Clint sighed. “We’re just going to be on the roof. I’m not going to stop you from coming.”

“What, not inviting your friends?” Barney spoke loudly and signed as he talked. “You shouldn’t isolate yourself.”

“It’s not--I’m…” Clint sighed. “I can invite them,” he conceded. “But don’t expect them to say yes. Not everyone enjoys making an hour-long commute just to come out and drink beer on a rooftop.” He got out his phone to text people all the same.

“You never know. At least make the effort. It’s not healthy to just spend time with one person.” Barney flopped into the seat where Bucky had been. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Right. Thanks.” Clint rolled his eyes. “Good to know someone is.” As he stood to go make dinner, he just spotted a shadow move along the bottom of Bucky’s door.

——————————

_Amazing Archer (6:24 pm): I can spot you the cab money or something_

_Red Russian Hood (6:26 pm): Shut the hell up Barton._

_Foggy (Foggy?) Nelson (6:28 pm): Just make sure you have the drinks stocked :)_

Of course they were all coming. Of course this had gone from two old vets sitting on a rooftop trying not to think about their demons to a whole party of people grilling hamburgers and drinking beer. Naturally.

Clint kept an eye on Bucky, who kept a death grip on his drink for most of the night but did seem to be enjoying himself aside from that, for the most part. He’d talked to Foggy for a while, and the two had been laughing and smiling while looking over at Clint or Matt, which Clint took as a good sign. When Natasha slunk over to Bucky, Clint made a point of wandering over himself.

“So I’m thinking you’re into tall blondes?” she was asking, leaning against the edge of the roof next to Bucky. She grinned at Clint, quirking an eyebrow.

“Come on, Tasha, leave him alone,” Clint said. “He doesn’t need you setting him up with anyone.”

“Just because you don’t date doesn’t mean that he’s not interested in my skills.”

“I think I’m good, actually,” Bucky said.

“Really?” Natasha said. “Because there’s this guy I work with, big and blonde and built to kingdom come, with just the right combination of babbling idiot and righteous defender. I think he’d be great for you.”

Bucky was flushing, just around his hairline, but the grip on his beer was white-knuckled. Clint opened his mouth to make a joke about Bucky already having a babbling idiot blonde in his apartment when Matt walked up.

“A guy you work with?” Matt asked. “And where exactly do you work?”

Natasha shrugged. “I work with the government. Top secret stuff, can’t say more than that.”

“How the hell did you get a job like that?” Matt frowned. “Do you even have the paperwork to get a job in the states? That would’ve been nice to have earlier!”

Seeing Bucky starting to loosen up, Clint decided that Matt had the situation well in hand. He decided to go check on his brother.

Barney was manning the grill, flipping burgers and hot dogs. Some of Clint’s friends from work had also shown up, and some of his neighbors from the apartment had drifted up to see what was going on. Barney handed out food to anyone who came up.

“You doing okay?” Clint asked.

“Yup. How do you want your burger?”

“I’m good, actually.”

“Medium rare?”

“I’m--”

“You have never turned down food in your life except when you were sick. Just take the burger, Clint.”

Clint accepted the food and smiled at his brother. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you. And I know you didn’t get to be bigger than me by skimping on portions.”

Clint grinned and wandered back away, saying hello to his various friends and eventually ending up perched on the roof wall next to Matt, looking across the group to make sure everyone was doing well. Bucky had gravitated back to Foggy, and Natasha was picking on Mack and Trip, so for now everything seemed to be all right.

“So how long is your brother sticking around, then?” Matt asked. He finished off his beer and set it on the roof edge.

“I don’t know,” Clint admitted. “You want another of those?”

“No, I’m good for tonight. You probably should be, too. How many have you had?”

“Three,” Clint said, rolling his sixth bottle between his hands. “Barney says he’s been looking for a job. I don’t know. I guess there aren’t a lot of job opportunities for ex-carnies and whatever the hell else he is.”

“You got a job. A pretty nice one.”

“Because I got lucky,” Clint said, frowning and picking the rough edge of the wall. The concrete dug up under his nail and he grunted, sucking on the spot of blood that came up. “I doubt Barney got to save the life of a billionaire while he was doing...whatever he did.”

“He still won’t tell you?”

“No. And I don’t really want him to. I feel like I could be arrested just for knowing.” Clint fought to put a joking tone into the words.

Matt tapped at his knee, thinking. “How’s Bucky doing with everything?” he settled on saying.

“Fine, I guess. It’s hard to tell. He doesn’t seem to like Barney that much, but whenever I bring up having him leave Bucky just tells me that no, it’s good, and how Barney should stay. I don’t get it.”

They sat for a moment, both caught up in their thoughts. Matt was still tapping away at his knee, and when he stopped Clint put down his drink and turned to face his friend.

“Bucky could stay with me for a while,” Matt offered. “If you think it would help.”

“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Clint said.

“It’s not about you asking. I’m offering. Bucky seems like a good guy. If he’s not doing well with Barney and you need the extra space, I’ve got an extra room. Just until everything gets settled.”

Clint considered the offer as he finished his drink. “I don’t know. Maybe,” he said. “I’ll bring it up with Bucky.”

“Let him know he’s welcome if he wants the extra space. He doesn’t have to be totally dependent on you. He’s got more friends than just your disgusting face.”

“How do you know my face is disgusting? You’ve never seen it,” Clint said with a smile.

“It seemed like a logical guess based on your general temperament.”

“Excuse you, I am a gentleman and a scholar, and I am also three inches taller than you and very handsome. You’d have to be blind not to be interested in this.” With the shit-eating grin back on his face, Clint breathed easy again, letting the tension he’d been storing all day fade away. He knew there was a reason he liked Matt Murdock.

“They’re starting the fireworks,” someone called. 

Clint drifted over to Bucky, leaning next to him over the wall. “Ready?” he asked.

Bucky gave a small smile in return and nudged Clint with his arm. “Am I ready? You’re the one who needs help.”

“Damn right I am.” Clint smiled, but as Bucky turned back to watch the fireworks his grin faded and he glanced over his shoulder to glance at Barney again. “Damn right,” he murmured.

——————————

When Clint got home from work the next day, Bucky was curled up in the armchair watching a documentary. Barney was in the kitchen, packaging up what was left of the stir fry.

“Hey guys,” Clint said, walking in and toeing his shoes off by the couch. He dropped his bag of work clothes on the ground, since after work he’d gone to the shooting range. He signed automatically as he asked, “How was everything today?”

“Fine,” Barney said. He put down the food and started signing. “I made dinner. There’s enough left if you want to take it for lunch tomorrow, since you missed out tonight.”

“Oh, thanks.” Clint turned to Bucky. “How was your day?”

Bucky just shrugged and nestled further into the chair.

“Did you guys go out or do anything?”

“I went down to the library,” Barney said. “How the hell you survive without internet in this place is beyond me.”

Clint looked around the apartment. The walls were completely bare, except for a longbow hanging on the wall and a couple of holes in the wall from where he’d done some archery practice before realizing it was better to just go down to the range. He had a small DVD collection over by the large television, but for the most part the place was bare. He looked at Bucky again, curled up with the only throw blanket, which had been a gift from Natasha (her first attempt at crochet).

Shrugging, Clint said, “I guess it never really seemed that important.”

“God, it’s like you never bothered to move in,” Barney huffed.

Clint froze for a moment before forcing himself to relax. “Well,” he said, “I’m good at moving, not at settling. You know how it goes.”

Bucky shifted in the chair again. Clint sighed. Better to get this conversation over with.

“Hey, uh, James?” Clint said quietly, shooting a glance over at Barney, who was hovering nearby. “It’s a nice night. You want to take a walk with me?”

Bucky shrugged again but stood. He stormed off to his bedroom but emerged a minute later wearing heavy boots and slinging on a jacket. He went to go wait by the door, while Clint rushed to put his shoes back on. They headed out together, taking the stairs through wordless agreement. As soon as they were on the street, Bucky took a deep breath and started walking.

“Sorry about keeping you cooped up with him,” Clint said.

“It’s fine. He really was gone most of the day,” Bucky admitted.

Clint hid his surprise with a scratch behind his ear. “Well that’s good, at least. Um. So. I talked to Matt yesterday. At the party.”

“I saw.” Bucky kicked at a rock on the sidewalk, sending it skittering along ahead of them and into a garbage can.

“Right. Yeah. So. I was talking to Matt, and he said you could stay with him. If you wanted.”

For a split second, Bucky turned to Clint, eyes wide and wearing an expression that Clint couldn’t place. Then he turned away, staring down at the ground and kicking another rock. “Yeah?” he said, the word slightly choked.

“I just, I figured, I mean. I know you don’t really get along well with Barney. I thought this might be better. Easier. He’s got an extra room, and you could hang out with him and Foggy and Natasha more instead of my sorry ass.” Clint tried to grin but knew the smile wasn’t reaching his eyes. Not that Bucky was looking.

Bucky kicked another rock. “You think that would be better?”

“Maybe, yeah.” Clint shrugged. “I mean, as long as you don’t let Nat run all over you.”

Bucky took a deep breath. He looked up and down the street, still avoiding looking at Clint. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” Clint rushed to say.

“No, it’s fine. I get it.”

“I just don’t think--”

“It’s fine,” Bucky snapped. “Tell Matt I can move in whenever he’s ready.”

Bucky walked faster, moving down the street and around the corner. Clint stopped and watched him go. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll just...do that.”

——————————

Matt was free that weekend, and Natasha had managed to get her hands on a car, so Bucky packed up all of his stuff into a couple suitcases and drove out to Hell’s Kitchen. Clint sent him off with a bag of cookies that he’d made from a freezer package and told him to visit whenever.

He wasn’t running away. That’s not what this was. It was...it was taking a stand. He’d picked a place and picked an allegiance, and he was going to be there to help his brother and make sure that Bucky wasn’t caught up in the mess. This was better for everyone.

Clint looked down at the floor and the beer bottles littered there. Then he looked down at the coffee pot in his hand. Why dirty another dish? He sighed and took another drink straight from the carafe.

There was a sigh, and the couch next to him sank down. Barney handed Clint another beer.

“You’re overthinking things again,” Barney said.

“Shut up.”

“All I’m saying--”

“Shut the hell up.”

“You need to--”

Clint stood. He took the beer with him as he retreated into his bedroom to pass out.

——————————

Clint nearly missed his phone buzzing in the middle of the night. He grabbed it to see a picture of Matt frowning at him from the screen. With a groan, he grabbed his hearing aids and slid his thumb to answer the phone call.

“Hey, hold up a sec, I gotta put my aids in,” he said. It took him another few seconds of fumbling to slide in the hearing aid and switch his phone over. “All right, shoot.”

“It’s Bucky,” Matt said in a low voice. “He’s...he’s crying.”

“What?” Clint froze as he tried to process this information.

“Has he ever done this before?”

“Crying?”

“Yeah.”

“Not that I know about!” Clint frowned and tried to think through the situation, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought. “Okay. Um. I haven’t ever heard him cry, but he gets panic attacks. Is he having one of those?”

“Maybe? I don’t really know. He’s in his room, but I can hear him through the door.”

“Okay, well, um. He doesn’t...I don’t ever disturb him when he’s in his room. Shit. Do you think he does this a lot and I just don’t hear him?”

“Not helping!” Matt hissed.

“No, I know, just...I mean, if this is regular and he usually works through it on his own, maybe you should just...let him?”

Matt paused on the other end. “He doesn’t sound good, Clint.”

“Augh!” Clint groaned. “I don’t know! What do you think we should do?”

“I think…” Matt sighed. “I think I’m going to talk to him. Anything I should say?”

“Hell if I know, man. Probably just don’t touch him, at least not at first. If he’s having a panic attack, help him breathe regularly, like by a count. And help him remember where he’s at. Just basics until he can calm down. Then maybe ask if he wants to talk.”

“All right. Okay.” Matt took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going to go in. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Clint hung up the phone but continued to stare at it for a while. He kept it lying next to him on the bed and was still staring at it as his eyes slowly drifted closed and he dropped into a restless sleep.

——————————

_Amazing Archer (9:02 am): So how did it go?_

_Bat Murdork (9:08 am): Bucky says he doesn’t have pain killers. Are they at your place?_

_Amazing Archer (9:08 am): Don’t think so he kept them with his stuff_

_Bat Murdork (9:09 am): He must be out. What kind does he need so I can pick up more?_

_Amazing Archer (9:10 am): I don’t know he always got his own_

_Bat Murdork (9:12 am): How? I thought he didn’t leave the apartment._

_Amazing Archer (9:13 am): SHIT_

_Amazing Archer (9:13 am): I FORGOT_

_Amazing Archer (9:14 am): OH MY GOD HOW LONG HAS HE NOT HAD OAIN MEDICATION_

_Bat Murdork (9:15 am): Okay, I’ll ask him and pick something up._

_Amazing Archer (9:17 am): Shit thanks see this is why you are a good friend you don’t forget peoples medication and then they spend nights crying while you cant. Hear them because fuck you aren’t dead goddammit_

_Amazing Archer (9:18 am): Can I come over after work? And apologize?_

_Bat Murdork (9:20 am): That might be good. I’ll tell Bucky you’re coming._

_Amazing Archer (9:21 am): Thanks. :)_

——————————

Clint headed over straight after work. He shot Matt a text on the way to say he was coming. Matt didn’t respond right away, but Clint knew Bucky would be home even if Matt wasn’t, so he headed up to the apartment anyway and knocked on the door.

There was a minute’s wait. Clint shifted his weight from foot to foot and kept checking down the hall. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Come on, buddy.”

The door opened slowly. Bucky stood in the small crack, his left arm out of view behind the door and his right hand curled into a fist. At the sight, Clint took a small step back and tucked his own hands into his pockets.

“Hey, Bucky,” Clint said with a small smile. “Mind if I come in?”

“Matt’s not home,” Bucky growled.

“That’s fine. I was sort of hoping to come hang out with both of you, actually.”

Bucky’s fist tightened. Clint found himself staring at it uncomfortably. He forced himself to move his gaze up to Bucky’s face.

“If this is a bad time, I can--oof!” He cut off when Bucky’s hand shot out and caught him with a punch to the solar plexus. Clint stepped back from the blow, reeling. His own hands curled into fists, and he came up snarling. “What the hell, bro?” he shouted. He took a step forward, right arm already drawn back for a retaliating punch.

In front of him, Bucky’s eyes widened and he pulled away. The door slammed shut between them. Clint looked down at his fists and stared at them in horror for a moment before stumbling back.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, that’s not...goddammit, Bucky!” He kicked at the wall and stormed off down the hall toward the elevator. As he waited for it to arrive, he stuffed his hands into his armpits and glared at the ground. “I wasn’t going to hit him,” he said. He wasn’t sure who he was lying to, but he knew nobody was going to believe him.

——————————

Clint went straight to the gym. He rented out a locker and a bow, threw his suit jacket, phone, watch, and wallet into the locker and headed over to the archery range. It was small, and not widely used. He had it all to himself this evening.

The bow he’d rented wasn’t up to his usual poundage. It felt cheap, like it was going to break under his fingers. He picked out the best arrows he could find, collecting a dozen of the longest so that he could draw back to his ear. Each arrow thunked into the target on the other side of the range, embedded at least halfway down the shaft into the foam. He shot at the center of the target, at the edge of the target, in a line, in a pattern. He found himself making constellations again out of habit and forced himself to switch back to basic shapes and lines.

After an hour of straight shooting, he heard a small buzzer and looked up to see one of the gym workers pointing at the clock. He sighed and walked back to turn in his bow. But he wasn’t ready to leave. He settled on finding a bench press and piling it up as heavy as he thought he could go.

“That was some extraordinary shooting.”

Clint looked up from piling on another ten-pound weight to see who was bothering to talk to him. The man on the other side of the bench was even taller than Clint and had long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“Yeah, well.” Clint went back to adding weights. “Everyone’s gotta have a hobby.”

“As I understand, it’s a rather strenuous sport, especially on the arms.”

“Yup.” Clint avoided looking at the guy. Maybe then he’d get the hint and leave.

“Perhaps you should not follow it up with attempting to lift a hundred pounds over your head.”

“I’m fine.”

“Exercising angry is more exhausting than a usual workout.”

Clint smirked. “Good thing I’m not angry, then, isn’t it?” He waited for the man to get tired and leave, but instead he just moved to spot Clint, who settled onto the bench.

“You were very angry as you shot. And you are trying to hide your anger now.”

“Joke’s on you, man. I don’t get angry.” Angry meant people getting hurt, people he cared about. Clint didn’t get angry.

“Denying your emotions doesn’t erase them.”

Clint ignored big and burly and continued his set.

“Perhaps if you talked to someone--”

“Okay, look, whatever your name is…”

“Thor,” the man supplied.

“Fine. Thor.” Clint skipped over the various jokes that went with that name (did your mother just want you to have a god complex? shouldn’t you only come in on Thor’s day?) in favor of snapping, “I don’t know what made you think that it was a good idea to come over here and try to play therapist, but I don’t need it. Okay?” He finished his set and sat up, rubbing his sore arms.

Thor frowned. “I could get you some water--”

“For god’s sake!” Clint stood up to his full height. “Just back the hell off, mighty moose!” He stormed away. He needed to be getting home anyway.

He marched into the locker room and pulled out his things. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down at the screen to see a list of missed calls, messages, and voicemails.

_Red Russian Hood (8:04 pm): I swear to every deity on this earth that if you do not call me back I will cut off y(...)_

_Red Russian Hood (8:01 pm): Pick up the phone, asshat._

_Foggy (Foggy?) Nelson (7:59 pm): Hey, are you doing okay? Matt said I should try to contact you._

_Red Russian Hood (7:50 pm): You busy doing something or what?_

_Red Russian Hood (7:46 pm): Tried to call you, no answer. Call me back._

_Sister Dearest (7:45 pm): Hey, haven’t heard from you in a while. How is Jimmy?_

_Bat Murdork (7:41 pm): If you don’t call me back I’ll call Natasha._

_Bat Murdork (7:28 pm): Oh god call me as soon as you can._

_Bat Murdork (6:52 pm): Hey, sorry I’m running late! I had a meeting with a client run late and lost track of(...)_

Clint sent off a group text to the whole lot of them.

_Amazing Archer (8:12 pm): Sorry I missed your messages! I decided to go work out at the gym for a bit. I even made a new friend. What kind of a name is Thor?_

Then he shut his phone off and took the bus home. When he walked in the door, Barney was waiting in the living room.

“Hey, what took you so long?”

“Decided to go shooting,” Clint mumbled.

“Well, you missed dinner. And one of your friends came by. The girl with the red hair?”

“Mm-hmm,” Clint muttered. He slipped off his shoes and took off his tie, dumping everything on the floor in a heap. He decided to skip dinner and head straight for bed. He’d shower in the morning.

“She seemed real impatient to talk to you. So I said--”

Clint’s bedroom door swung open with a loud bang. He jerked up in surprise to see Natasha standing there, glaring up at him.

“--she could wait for you here,” Barney finished.


	4. The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Now in the morning I sleep alone, sweep the streets I used to own._  
>  “[Viva la Vida](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvgZkm1xWPE),” Coldplay

“Fuck.” Clint stood in his apartment, wondering what he had ever done to deserve an evening of getting punched by one of his friends, getting coddled by a complete stranger, and getting accosted in his own apartment.

Natasha waited in the doorway to his bedroom. “So. Talk.”

“There’s nothing to--”

“Bullshit.”

“I went to see how he was doing, all right?” Clint shouted. “And he punched me and slammed the door in my face. Forgive me if I didn’t want to talk about it to everyone in the world!”

“So, what, the answer is to just hole yourself away from everyone? Forever?”

“I don’t know! Seems better than hurting everyone!”

“Who are you hurting?”

“I--” Clint’s eyes cut over to Barney, who was very intently studying the commercial for cleaning product playing on the television. Clint’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I almost punched him, Tash.”

“Before or after he punched you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes! Look, you probably need to give the guy some space, all right? But if someone swings at you, it doesn’t make you a bad person to swing back.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She stepped forward and patted his arm. “I know there’s a lot you’re dealing with right now, but cutting us off isn’t the answer.”

Clint folded, bending at the middle until his head was on her shoulder. She wrapped one hand up to pat him on the back of the head and wrapped the other arm up into a hug. His arms reached forward to rest around her in a loose hug. He bit back a sob.

“I broke it, Tasha. I had something great, and I don’t know what I did, but I broke it, and now my only friend is a guy at my gym whose parents had a horrible sense of humor.”

“Okay, a couple points,” she said. “First, nothing’s broken, and you might be an idiot but for some reason we all still love you. Which leads to number two, you still have your friends. Bucky might be mad at you, but we're all still here. And three, you need to let the ‘Thor’ thing go. It’s still not funny and it’s just getting embarrassing how little you know about foreign politics.”

Clint sniffed. “Wh-what?” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“Thor is the son of Odin--”

Clint snorted a laugh.

“Who heads the biggest corporation in all of Norway and is likely to pass that title on to his son, who is in New York as part of a joint business trip and learning experience as he attempts to build a partnership with some of the companies here, including the people you work for. In fact, I think that he’s scheduled to show up at Stark Enterprises tomorrow, and he’ll probably be assigned a bodyguard while he’s there.”

Clint froze and slowly raised his head. “Okay, ignoring just how you know all of this...seriously?”

“Seriously. You really should pay more attention at work. And to the world in general. Maybe watch the news every once in a while.”

“Fuck.”

——————————

Clint was going to Norway. Fuck.

——————————

“It’s just for a few weeks,” Clint said. He had his phone pinned against his ear with one shoulder as he packed his suitcase. “Miss Potts is going over for a business conference, and I’m supposed to watch her, and then they want me to stick around as part of the security detail assigned to the people hammering out the merger.”

“And they picked you because…?” Matt asked.

“Hell if I know. Stark seems to trust me or something. Something about saving his life, having good instincts, blah blah blah. I think he just likes that I laugh at his jokes most of the time.”

“Well that makes sense. After all, you still laugh at your own jokes, so you’d have to laugh at ones that are actually funny.”

“Thank you, my jokes _are_ funny.”

“How’s denial treating you?”

“No, not Egypt, Matt. Norway. N-O-R-W-A-Y.”

Matt just groaned. Clint finished throwing a few more t-shirts and undershirts into the suitcase and started rooting for his nice clothes. “Anyway,” he said, attempting to actually fold the button-down shirts, “How’re things over at your place?”

“It’s all right,” Matt said. “I guess. We um. We haven’t really talked about anything.”

“LIke what happened last night?”

“No, more like anything. At all. But there hasn’t been any more hitting or anything, which I’m taking as a good sign. No panic attacks, aside from the mess he was in when I got home yesterday. ”

“Damn.” Clint dropped his shirt into the suitcase and rubbed at his face. “Well, yeah, I guess that’s good.” He frowned at the wall. “Do you think I should, I don’t know, come by again?”

Matt was silent for a while. “Maybe not. I think maybe we just need some space. I’d wanted to say, well, he mentioned he was mad at you, and I thought maybe talking it out would be good. But I don’t know.”

“Okay. All right.” Clint went back to packing. He forced his voice to stay light. “Just, you know. Keep at it, I guess. You guys’ll be okay without me?”

“I’m sure we’ll manage. I’m thinking of getting a dart board for the apartment. You know, just for my own personal use.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Though now I’ll have to think of something else to do for you for Christmas.”

“I’ve had my eye on this new painting,” Matt said.

Clint laughed. “All right, you win. I promise I’ll stop worrying, as long as you promise to look out for yourself and Bucky.”

“I’ll certainly do my best. Keep a close lookout and all that.”

“That’s all I ask. Okay, I gotta go. I need to be at the airport early tomorrow morning, so I need to get some sleep.” Clint zipped up his suitcase. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Take care, Clint. Call if you need anything. You know. In Norway.”

“I’ll call Natasha. I’m sure she could find a way.”

“I somehow don’t doubt it. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, later.” Clint dropped the phone onto the bed. “Norway. Because that’s my life now.”

——————————

Three weeks later, Clint walked into his apartment to see Barney sitting on the couch, wearing sweatpants and watching a soap opera while eating ramen. He stood his suitcase up near the door and leveled the broadsword he was carrying at his brother.

Barney looked over and his eyes flew open in surprise. “What the hell?” he said through a bite of noodle.

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” Clint said. He lowered the sword. “I think I’ll hang this near the door. How was your time alone?”

“Fine. Though I’m not so sure I was alone. I feel like I’m always being watched.”

“That doesn’t sound fine,” Clint pointed out. “That sounds paranoid. You need to get out of this place more. Get a job yet?”

“I’ve got some ideas.”

Clint sighed. “All right, well, I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” He propped the sword up against the wall, carted his suitcase to his bedroom, and grabbed his keys and wallet before heading out again.

Matt, Natasha, and Foggy were waiting at Josie’s. Clint slid into the booth with them and waved down the waitress to order a beer.

“Bucky didn’t want to come?” Clint asked.

“He’s here,” Matt said. “He’s grabbing the drinks.”

Clint’s head shot around to look over at the bar. Bucky was standing, waiting for the first round of drinks.

“I’m gonna go lend him a hand.” Clint said. He stood and went over to Bucky, who was staring at five bottles with some consternation. Clint coughed and stepped up next to him. “Here, pass me some of those,” he said.

Bucky looked up at Clint, wary for a moment before taking a breath and relaxing. He grabbed necks of two bottles in one hand and said, “Grab the rest?”

Clint took the three remaining bottles and carried them back to the table everyone else had snagged. It was in the corner, opposite the door and not next to any windows. Their friends had left two seats by the far wall empty. Clint let Bucky choose first and slid into the spot next to him.

“So, uh,” Clint started. “How’s everyone been the last few weeks?”

“Same old,” Matt said with a shrug.

“We picked up a few new cases,” Foggy added. “All of them look pretty cut and dry, though.”

“I got assigned a new partner at work,” Natasha said, taking a sip of her drink. “And I found out he is definitely handsome, definitely interested in men, and definitely opposed to being trapped in a basement for eighteen hours."

Foggy frowned at her. “What do you do again?”

“It’s classified.”

“And you?” Clint asked, turning to Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. “Not much. I’ve been practicing some things. Baking. I make a pretty good pie these days. And I think I’m ready for another game of darts, if you think you can keep up.” He gave a small smile.

Clint’s grin cracked his face in half. “If _I_ can keep up? I’ll bet you two shots I can outshoot you at darts.”

“Shots of gin.” Bucky’s smile was growing evil.

“Done.” Clint stood up. “Let me out, Matt, I gotta whoop this guy’s ass to kingdom come.”

“Don’t get him too drunk,” Matt said, scooting his chair in. “Or I’ll make you clean up afterward.”

Clint and Bucky walked over to the dartboard pinned up by the bar. Clint grabbed the darts first.

“So you’re doing all right with Matt?” he asked quietly, pulling the dart back to his ear and aiming.

Bucky shrugged. “We do fine. He’s a way better cook than you. More organized, too. He actually keeps his towels folded and in the linen closet.”

Clint threw the first dart.

“I’m going to start imposing a time limit, I think,” Bucky said with a sigh.

Clint winked and the next five in quick succession, landing them all in the center of the bullseye.

“Showoff,” Bucky muttered as Clint went to grab the darts again. He held them while Bucky grabbed each one in turn to throw. “So how was Norway?”

“Good. I got a sword.”

Bucky stopped before making his throw, looked at Clint, and smiled. “You know, I’m not even surprised anymore. You learn how to use it?”

“I mean, how much can someone really learn in three weeks, it’s not like you can just pick up a sword and instantly be good…”

“Fuck you, Barton.”

“I disarmed Thor once, and he said it was because he usually fights with a different style and weapon. And then he called his friends and they all dumped me on my ass.”

“So you had a good time.”

“Yup. I’m glad you picked up a new hobby, too, while I was gone.”

Bucky smiled, but this time it was tight and didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yup. All sorts of new things I’ve been learning.”

Clint watched Bucky make the final throw, which landed just outside the center, and let the comment pass. “All right, here we go. Barkeep, I need two shots of gin.”

“The good stuff,” Bucky said.

“It’s gin. There is no good stuff.”

Bucky took the two glasses slid across the counter to him and downed both of them in quick succession. “Want to try again?” he asked.

——————————

Clint helped Matt walk the extremely drunk Bucky back to the apartment.

“You couldn’t have thrown the game just once to take a hit for the team?” Matt grunted. Bucky stumbled to the right and into his side.

“He kept betting gin! I wasn’t that willing to take the hit.”

“Change the bet!”

“I like gin,” Bucky slurred.

“Because you are disgusting.”

Matt frowned. “You have literally eaten bugs,” he pointed out.

“Madame Cauffrey offered! You don’t say no when Madame Cauffrey offers!”

“Who the hell is Madame Cauffrey?”

Clint stared at Matt. “You don’t. Say no. To Madame Cauffrey.”

Bucky lurched to the left, falling against Clint and moving past him to lean against the wall. “You guys are so fucking loud,” he said. Then he threw up on the sidewalk.

“Did he actually throw up or just almost?” Matt asked.

“He actually did it. But at least it was outside and not in your apartment?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Bucky said, waving his left stump at them. His right arm was still holding him up against the wall.

“It’s okay, buddy, we’re almost there,” Clint said, coming up next to him. He ducked under the left arm again, leaving Matt to feel his way forward and grab Bucky’s right arm. “Come on, let’s get you lying down.”

They staggered together the rest of the way to the apartment. Clint silently blessed whoever had invented elevators and whoever had decided to install one in this particular apartment. Bucky nearly threw up _in_ the elevator, but they managed to make it back to Matt’s place without further hurling.

While Matt went to get water, Clint set Bucky on the floor of the bathroom next to the toilet and perched himself on the edge of the bathtub.

Bucky’s head lolled against the wall. “Dude, what the hell is it with you and purple?” he asked.

“What?” Clint looked down at the shirt he’d picked out for the day, a faded purple tee. “I don’t know. I just like it.”

“You look like a giant bruise,” Bucky slurred.

“Umm, thanks?”

“And you can’t cook.”

“Well yeah. I knew that.”

“You care too much about your milk.”

“Skim milk is not milk!” Clint shouted, quieting instantly when he saw the way Bucky flinched from the noise. “Sorry.”

“I swear you are louder than you used to be,” Bucky mumbled.

Clint frowned. “Sorry. I can’t always tell how loud I am.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s not your damn fault. Stop thinking everything is your fucking fault.”

“I...what?”

“The hearing thing. Your brother coming back. My fucking arm.” Bucky waved his right hand in the air. “It’s not your fault. Stop apologizing. It’s so damn annoying.”

“I...I’m…” Clint snorted. “I don’t think your arm is my fault.”

“Congratulations, one thing you didn’t screw up.”

“And you didn’t either.”

“Thank you Captain Einstein.” Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Wait. Einstein wasn’t a captain...What was I going to say?”

“Captain Obvious?” Clint supplied.

Bucky nodded once, firmly, before holding his head and swaying slightly. “Yes, thanks. Captain Oblivious.” His eyes opened wide and he launched himself toward the toilet and dry heaved for a moment.

Clint came up behind him and grabbed his hair, holding it back from his face. Matt came in then, holding a glass of water.

“I got his bed ready,” Matt said. “And I have some pain medicine sitting on the nightstand. There’s also a trash can by the bed, in case he wants to move instead of sitting by the toilet all night.”

“What do you say, Bucky?” Clint asked. “Want to head to bed?”

Bucky nodded and tried to stand up on his own, stepping away from Clint’s supporting hands. “S’fine, I can do it,” he said. “Not broken or anything.” He leaned heavily against the wall as he shuffled down the hall toward the bedroom.

“I’ll paper rock scissors you to see who tucks him in,” Clint said.

“Fine, but you have to call it out loud,” Matt said.

“One, two, three, rock!” Clint said, looking down at Matt’s two outstretched fingers. “Ha. Have fun. I’m crashing on your couch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re an ass, Barton,” Matt said.

“Yes he is!” Bucky shouted from the bedroom.

——————————

Clint had the day off after that long trip, so he lazed around Matt’s apartment with Bucky until mid-morning. Bucky was doing surprisingly well considering his state the previous night. Clint made a contest out of breakfast, seeing how many pieces of bread he could hide in Bucky’s hair before he noticed. Bucky retaliated by grinding eggshells into Clint’s scalp. They ate breakfast in front of the TV and Clint stole a shower before heading back home on the C-train.

He dawdled on his way back to the apartment, picking up a newspaper and chatting with some of the people on his street. After waving goodbye to Mrs. Singh and turning down a kid trying to sell candy, he wandered up to his apartment. He knocked on the door out of habit before stepping inside.

No one was home. Clint let out a small huff of relief and crashed on the couch. He flicked the newspaper open to the ads, searching for job opportunities. As he opened the paper, a slip of paper fell out from the pages. He bent to retrieve it from the floor.

_525 Throop Ave., 7 pm_

Clint frowned at the paper, flipping it over to the back. There, someone had used a purple pen to draw a long arrow.

That was...weird. Probably something he hadn’t been meant to receive, but then, it wouldn’t hurt to wander down in that area. It was only three now, but he might as well head over and do some investigating ahead of time.

525 Throop turned out to be a coffee shop that closed every day at four. Clint bought himself a coffee, black, and sat in the back corner, looking around at the various patrons and getting a feel for the layout. Outside, he picked out a route onto a nearby rooftop. After a quick stop at a corner store to pee and grab some snacks, he used a garbage bin to climb up onto a fire escape and onto the roof. From there, he had a clear vantage spot to watch the little coffee place.

He spent the next three hours waiting, wondering if he should even be there, and eventually just sitting long enough that it was seven o’clock and he might as well look over, since he was there.

The street was busy, but Clint picked out a figure walking slowly up the street, hunched and wearing an overlarge jacket. The figure looked furtively around and came to a stop right in front of the closed coffee shop.

Clint squinted down. It was...familiar. Why was it familiar?

Another figure poked their head out from the alcove of the shop.

The hood on the first figure slipped off, revealing a shock of red-brown hair. Clint wilted. “Barney,” he whispered, “what are you doing?”

Barney talked to the man in the alcove for a while before pulling out an envelope and passing it over, receiving something passed in a handshake. He tucked his hands in his pockets and walked off back toward the apartment.

Clint rolled over onto his back on the roof. He laid there, staring up at the sky, before slowly standing and shuffling home.

Barney was in the living room when he arrived. “Hey, brother,” he said, waving at Clint. “How was your time with your friends?”

“What is it?” Clint asked, staring at the ground.

Barney’s face hardened. “What are you talking about?”

“Heroin? Cocaine?”

“Look, I don’t know where you’re getting your--”

“I saw you today. And you know, I don’t...I just don’t get it. After all the shit we’ve been through, you choose to do this to yourself, too?”

“Clint, it’s not--”

“Where did you even get the money? Have you been working jobs on the side all this time? Doing what?”

“You’re not thinking straight. I don’t know what you think you saw…”

Clint sagged against the wall. “Just...just get out. I don’t need this, okay?”

“You can’t just kick me out!”

“You made me kick my friend out! I had finally managed to carve out a spot for myself, finally managed to find a place that was feeling like home, for the first time in my life, and you walked in and destroyed that.”

“And what, you’re punishing me for maybe wanting some of that? It hasn’t been that great for me, either. What with all that time in the hospital.”

“Oh, here it comes!” Clint pushed himself away from the wall and stalked toward Barney, who rose from the couch to stare him in the eye. His eyes were bloodshot and wild, his hands twitchy. How had Clint not seen that before? “I knew you hadn’t forgotten. I knew you were always holding onto that. When you were the one who was working as a bodyguard for a literal drug lord!”

“You shot me!”

“I didn’t know it was you!”

“You left me to bleed out, on the street!”

“That doesn’t mean that I owe you anything! You abandoned me long before that. You haven’t done a damn thing to help me since you left the circus, and you’re sure as hell not doing anything for me now.”

“So what are you going to do? Call the cops?”

Clint glared at his brother. “Sure. Why not.” He reached for his phone.

With a whirl of motion, Barney pulled something from his pocket and stabbed it into Clint’s left shoulder. As Clint screamed and dropped to his knees, Barney reached over to steal his wallet. He bolted for the door, throwing it open and running out.

Clint grabbed at the small pocket knife sticking out of his shoulder and yanked it out. He pressed a hand over his shoulder. From the hall, he heard a thud. He looked up.

Bucky Barnes stood in the doorway, dragging an unconscious Barney on the floor behind him.

“Hey Bucky,” Clint groaned. He worked up a smile. “Think you can lend a hand?”


	5. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _While everyone’s lost, the battle is won with all these things that I’ve done._  
>  “[All These Things That I’ve Done](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sesUEiTcXo),” The Killers

Clint and Bucky sat in the ER together in complete silence. There was some kid with a concussion in line ahead of them and apparently there had been a car accident in their area, so after some pressure to staunch the bleeding Clint had been asked to sit and wait for medical attention.

“I hate hospitals,” Clint said after an hour of waiting.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Bucky said.

“This is one ti--”

“The explosion,” Bucky ticked off, “Saving Stark, and this. Plus I called Matt to tell him we were coming to the hospital and he said ‘again?’ So I am guessing that this is not just one time and in fact you quite love being in the hospital.”

“That’s hardly--”

“Didn’t you say you were in the hospital before you joined the army, too?”

Clint looked down at his hands. He would ordinarily try to twiddle his thumbs, but it hurt to move his left hand too much just now.

“None of those were really my fault,” he finally settled on saying.

Bucky turned to look him full in the face. His hair was falling in a dark, messy curtain that framed his wide eyes. How long had his glare been the hardness of steel?

“What were you doing at my apartment, anyway? I left you in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“I took a taxi.”

“...were you stalking me or something?”

“No.”

“So the note in the newspaper was...happenstance?”

“Who the fuck even says that?”

“Says what?”

“That’s not even a real word.”

“Happenstance? We are arguing over my use of the word ‘happenstance’?”

“You sound like an idiot.”

“I do--ooh.” Clint held up a finger on his left hand, winced, and switched to his right hand. “Good job, nice diversion tactic. But seriously. The newspaper note. You?”

Bucky nodded, once, a quick jerk of the head before he looked away.

“Why?”

“Thought you should know.”

“About my brother’s drug addiction? And that was your way of telling me?!” Clint waved his hands--hand--in the air. “What was wrong with using your words?”

Bucky, still looking over at the wall, mumbled under his breath.

“Can’t hear you when you talk like that. Look at me or speak up.”

Bucky turned to face Clint’s direction. “He’s your brother,” he said. “Thought you’d take his word over mine.”

Clint stared at him. “Bucky. I...what?” He reached up to rub at his eyes. “You are...an idiot.”

Bucky looked away again.

“You’re like, my best friend! You saved my ass like, twenty times during the war, and probably another twenty times since. The last thing my brother did for me was run away and leave me with an abusive asshole as a mentor before practically faking his own death and turning up six years later just to mooch off me!”

And that was...maybe a hint of a smile? Bucky turned away from Clint too quickly for him to get a real reading.

“I’ve always known what my family is like. It’s why I try so hard not to be like them. The only reason I let Barney stick around as long as I did was because you seemed to think it was a good idea.”

“I thought I told you…” Bucky said. He trailed off, saying something else that Clint didn’t catch.

“What was that?” Clint asked, reaching over to poke at Bucky’s left bicep.

Bucky looked back, and the smile was definitely there, if very small. “I thought I told you to stop with all these fucking sad stories.”

Clint grinned back. “Last one,” he said. “Cross my heart and hope to--”

“Don’t even think it.”

The two sat for a moment in an uncomfortable silence before a nurse called out for Clint.

“Oh thank god,” Clint said, standing up. “We were almost having a moment.”

“The one thing you’re allergic to.”

“Thanks, asshole. See you on the other side of surgery.”

“It’s like two stitches!”

“I go now to my death!” Clint marched away, saluting as he went. And thank god, there was Bucky’s smile.

——————————

It needed seven stitches, and he needed to wear a sling for a while. By the time they got back to the apartment, Barney had woken up and gotten out of the chair they’d tied him to.

“Good riddance,” Clint said. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t come back this time.”

“We should call the police,” Bucky said.

“I don’t want to mess with it. He’s gone, and if we’re lucky it’s for good. And if he does come back, you can knock him out again with that right hook of yours and we’ll call the police then. But until then, I’d rather they not come looking too closely at my personal life. Besides, if I owe him anything it’s leaving him the fuck alone.”

“I guess so,” Bucky grunted.

Clint went to the fridge and rummaged around until he found two beers. He popped the top on both and set one on the kitchen counter. “So,” he started, “how’d you find out about Barney, anyway?”

Bucky sighed. “Do we have to do this tonight? It’s almost midnight, and we just got back from sitting at the hospital for four hours.”

“Come on, you can’t leave me hanging like this. Spill.”

With a grumble, Bucky grabbed a kitchen stool and his beer. He looked at a spot past Clint’s ear and said, “I’ve been following him.”

“What? For how long?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a month?”

“That was...what, before the 4th of July? So you were doing this all the time when you were over at Matt’s?”

“I guess.”

“Just sneaking out? Matt said you barely left the apartment!”

“I didn’t for a while. After, I mean.” Bucky’s right hand reached over to rub at his left bicep again. “I was upset. But you were...I...Matt said.” He sighed. “Matt said you were trying to help me. And I didn’t understand it. I still don’t, for the record. Because half of your logic makes no fucking sense. But I still didn’t figure it was right for me to leave you with that sack of shit and no idea what he was doing.”

“Wh…?” Clint blinked a few times, trying to straighten out his thoughts. “What made you suspect him?”

“He kept disappearing. Always looked shifty. I didn’t trust him.”

“So why’d you keep telling me he should stay?” Clint threw his arm up in exasperation.

“Thought he was helping you.” Bucky made a few signs, first for ‘thank you,’ then ‘asshole’ and ‘want.’ “You two had shared a lot. He was taking care of you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? He made me use sign language. Good for him.”

“You didn’t have to stay up all night looking after him when he got nightmares.”

“I didn’t--oh.” Clint thought back to the first night Barney had been in the apartment. “I don’t...Bucky, I never sleep. I’m totally fucked up, whether I’m lying in my bed or sitting on the couch. I also didn’t want Barney to see it. Didn’t think he’d understand it. Didn’t want to share that with him.”

Bucky was staring down at the ground again. “I didn’t know. About you and him. I thought...I thought you would miss him. That he was helping you to feel better.”

“Sure, I missed my brother,” Clint said. “But that wasn’t him. That was the asshole he turned into. Not everyone stays close to their siblings forever.”

Bucky looked sad at that, gazing down at his beer bottle as he started to pick at the label.

“Hey, no. Your sister still cares about you,” Clint added. He expected the slightly manic look on Bucky’s face, though not necessarily the fear that came with it. “She was really glad to hear you’re okay.”

“I left her,” Bucky said. “Just like…”

Clint blew a breath out through puffed cheeks. He pulled up the other kitchen stool and sat next to his friend. “Okay, well. What you did kind of sucked. But that doesn’t make you like Barney, if that’s what you’re thinking. I think you were just...just trying to put yourself together, right? Instead of falling apart in front of her?”

Bucky just shook his head. He wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and rested on his elbow. “I kept getting worse,” he whispered. “It was always worse there.”

And that did sound familiar. Rebecca had said he’d been having problems every day. Here it was much more infrequent. “Do you know why?” Clint tried.

Another head shake. “I just couldn’t stay there. Maybe watching her with that asshole she married...I don’t know. He made me angry, but that wasn’t even it. I’d just be sitting on the couch and then suddenly it was three hours later and Becca was holding my hand and I was screaming--” Bucky cut off and bit his lip, like he was trying to take back the words that he hadn’t really meant to say.

“Hey. It’s okay.” Clint reached out a hand, hesitated, then placed it on Bucky’s right shoulder and squeezed. Bucky glanced up at him, finally looking him in the eye. “It’s okay. I still do that sometimes, you know? It fucking sucks, but we’re gonna be okay.”

Bucky looked away again immediately. He blinked rapidly and chewed the inside of his cheek. Clint, recognizing the tell, froze up for a second before forcing himself to relax. “You want to talk any more? About what happened?”

“When?” Bucky asked.

“Any time.”

Bucky shook his head, nodded, then rolled his neck and looked up at the ceiling before letting out a long sigh. “I went to live with some Russians.”

And that…was not what Clint had expected. He waited to see if Bucky would explain more.

“I was in Chicago,” Bucky said. “Found a place to stay. The landlord took cash, but he mostly spoke Russian. He also let me work at odd jobs around the apartment. That’s where I was. After. Until I, uh, couldn’t pay the rent anymore. And he kicked me out. Then I saw the papers, you and Stark at that party, and I thought maybe I could...I don’t know. So I came here.”

And part of Clint wanted to yell at Bucky for not coming to find him first, and part of him wanted to wrap his friend in a hug and tell him everything was all right, and most of him was angry at himself for not trying to reach out earlier, and none of him really knew what to say to make it actually all right. He tried for something like the truth.

“Well, I’m sorry for being such a shit friend when you needed me. And I’m sorry for apologizing so much, I know you hate that. Shit. Let me start over.”

Bucky stopped staring at the ceiling and dropped his eyes to look past Clint’s shoulder, his eyes no longer quite as tight.

“I was...I liked having you around,” Clint said. “I really did. I still do. But with Barney around, I knew you weren’t happy. And I started to think maybe you were probably never happy around me, since I’m kind of an asshole and a loser and a bad cook and my house is shit and all that. And Matt’s also kind of shit, but he’s a better shit than I am, and he has a nice apartment and actually takes care of his friends, and I just...I thought you would probably be happier not. You know. Having to put up with me and my messed up brother.”

Bucky frowned. His eyes made their way over to Clint’s. “Your brother is definitely messed up.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” Clint rubbed at his face. “And you’ve also admitted I am kind of messed up, which I’m in agreement with, but just for clarification, which part of my logic about having you leave didn’t make sense?”

A hint of red creeped up Bucky’s neck. He murmured directly into his hand.

“What?”

Bucky frowned and turned back. He pointed at Clint, then ran his thumb under his chin and made a fist with his thumb held in front of his fingers, held his first two fingers out horizontal, made a fist with one raised pinky, and dropped his pinky into the fist while moving his thumb under his pointer finger. His head fell immediately to his chest.

Clint smiled and looked down, trying to catch Bucky’s gaze. “Yeah, well, you’re not shit, either.”

Bucky reached out with his right arm and pushed Clint off the stool. Clint laughed and stood up, perching himself on the countertop instead. The two sat for a while, nursing their drinks, before Clint tapped his empty bottle onto the counter.

“You were sneaking out of Matt’s apartment? While he was there?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s not hard. There’s a lot that man doesn’t see.”

Clint snorted. “And a lot I’ve missed, too. Sorry. I should’ve talked to you earlier.”

“Talking is hard.”

“I hear you.”

——————————

“You know who I miss?” Clint said. He spoke to the room at large, sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter while Bucky cooked behind him and Matt, Natasha, and Foggy sat in the living room. “Sam. That is a great guy that I just never see around anymore.”

“And where do you know Sam from?” Foggy asked.

Matt groaned. “Don’t encourage him,” he said.

“Sam’s an old army buddy of mine and Bucky’s,” Clint said.

“You don’t see him because you’re not in the army anymore,” Natasha said.

Bucky set a veggie tray down next to Clint, making him jump. “He’s in DC. Got out a few months ago. You could go down and visit.”

“I’m going to put a bell on you,” Clint threatened, snagging one of the carrot sticks off the tray. “And I’m not going to DC. What’s even there? Sam should come up and visit us.” He crunched into the carrot. “How do you even know what Sam’s up to?”

“He sent me a letter. When I got out. I finally got back to him. Figured it was probably a good idea to reach out again. I’m even asking Becca to bring up the boxes you sent me when she comes by for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh. Well, that’s cool,” Clint said. He twirled the last half of the carrot stick in his fingers. He ignored the heat creeping up his neck. “I guess maybe we should make a point of visiting Sam, then.” 

“You could get a car,” Natasha said. “Then you could go down and visit him whenever you wanted.”

Bucky snorted. “Clint can’t afford a car.”

Foggy looked up, confused. “Why not?”

“Look around. He lives in a shithole apartment in Bed-Stuy. Before I showed up he barely ate food other than cereal and ramen. What is the most expensive thing in this apartment? The bow?”

Natasha and Foggy exchanged a look and glanced over at Matt, then Bucky, then Clint, who was throwing up grape tomatoes and catching them in his mouth.

“You know Clint works for Tony Stark, right?” Matt said slowly.

“Yeah.” Bucky flipped an egg in the frying pan with a flick of his wrist. “Wait. What are you saying?” He turned to Clint. “How much money do you actually make?”

“Eh.” Clint shrugged. “Enough.”

“Enough to live in Midtown,” Natasha said, leaning across Clint to grab a celery stick.

“But, then, why do you live in Brooklyn?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and Matt huffed a sigh while Foggy shrugged. Clint just grinned. “One of my best friends grew up in Brooklyn and he turned out all right, so I figured it must be a good place to end up.”

Bucky, with a flush sneaking up his neck, threw a piece of egg at Clint, who caught it in his mouth. “You are a giant sap.”

“Does this mean you’ll move to Russia next?” Natasha asked.

“Are you kidding me? It’s cold in Russia! Bucky hates the cold. I couldn’t drag him out there.”

“That’s right,” Bucky said. “Besides, I just got a job at a coffee shop here.”

There was a chorus of “really?” and “that’s awesome!” from everyone in the room.

“And I think,” Bucky said, sliding an egg onto a plate, “I might go talk to Stark about his work in prosthetics.”

Clint smiled wide. “Sounds like a good plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you for following along with this story. Check back in next week for some one-shots that expand on the storyline. I'll even start you off with some nice fluff. Also as a gift for you this season, check out the series description for a link to the playlist so you can listen along as you read.
> 
> Thanks again for sticking around. Comments are always read and appreciated, as well as any suggestions you may have. Deepest thanks to my friends ottobarnes and hardly_questionable, who helped me parse this out and watched me fight the whole way to make this story happen. Look at us, we did it!


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